


When You're a Falling Star

by xXxBL00DR0SExXx



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 1960s, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Human Spock, Humor, I try anyway..., Memory Alteration, Time Travel, Transformation, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxBL00DR0SExXx/pseuds/xXxBL00DR0SExXx
Summary: Sean Grayson is just your average, ordinary working man trying to get through life. That is until he meets James Kirk of the starship Enterprise who claims Sean is really an alien and to be from the future. Sean just wants to live a normal life, running his shop and James, just wants his friend back. Where do they go from here?**Please gentle, this is my first time...**





	1. Monday Morning

Sean Grayson yawned widely, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He settled into his morning routine with ease, taking the time to appreciate every comforting aspect; coffee, toast, yesterdays newspaper. He had to wake an hour earlier granted, but he for one found it was worth it not to rush, like a daily list of assignments, but to instead appreciate the dawning of a brand new day. He unfurled the paper, scanning the columns briefly before finally settling down to finish the crossword puzzles for peace of mind. Then checking his watch at 4:43 before popping the last of his toast into his mouth and drawing on his large winter coat as he headed towards the door.

The air was crisp and fresh, the sky the soft murky blue-grey of early morning. The city was just beginning to wake up. Mr. Grayson never told anyone, he had never had the opportunity, but he especially enjoyed these moments. It almost felt like the city was a living, thinking being and he was already there to greet her before it was her time to wake.

Stopping by a stand on the corner, he purchased todays newspaper. As per usual, he’d read it to today, leaving the crosswords for the next morning as that was the only time he could. He frowned at the headline that leapt out at him from the front page, giving the story a cursory glance before thanking the the vendor and continuing on his way.

“Spock?”

Reaching the crossing, he proceeded to roll up the newspaper, storing it under his arm for later. He tried to pull his thoughts away from the political matters the newspaper brought up. He had noted yesterday they had been low on certain items. He would have to go over this with Catherine. After all, it was partly her responsibility to ensure stock were sufficient enough for-

“Spock! Oh thank god Spock I finally found you.”

Mr. Grayson’s thoughts were forcibly derailed by the sudden, unexpected contact of a human hand placed upon his shoulder. He immediately pulled away to turn around and find the owner of said hand.

The man before him was, by all definitions and standards of the times, handsome. Even Grayson had to admit that. With a strong jawline and reddish-blonde hair swept back in what had probably once been a very stylish cut but was now very much over grown. In fact the man’s overall appearance seemed to reflect just that: a very handsome, young man who from his face to his incredibly worn sheepskin coat, hinted at one who’d had a sudden drastic change of fortune for the worst. In the end however this was all irrelevant to Mr. Grayson as none of these details really addressed the primary issue at hand.

Because truthfully, he had no idea who this individual was.

“I’m sorry sir, but I believe you have the wrong man .” Mr. Grayson stated with a polite smile and slight tilt of the head, subtle movements designed to deter unwanted persons with minimum conflict.

The man stared at him, slack jawed in a blend of momentary shock and horror, looking over Sean up and down.

“…Good god Spock! What did he do to you?”

“He?” Mr. Grayson asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Dr. Sklar! Spock, don’t you remember?” the man exclaimed wildly. Leaning in a little too closely for Mr. Grayson’s comfort.

“I’m sorry sir but my name is not Spock, it is Grayson, Sean Grayson. I’m afraid I don’t know of a ‘Spock’.” he said.

“Grayson? Well I guess that’s not entirely wrong but-”

“Then, why do you keep calling me Spock?” An amused grin breaking out over the man’s dumbfounded expression.

“Well, you see-I well I mean technically, from Amanda’s side, you would have been a Grayson but-"

Mr. Grayson’s smile instantly dropped, his eyes grew cold. All pretences of politeness vanished.

“How do you know my mothers name?” He said cooly.

“Amanda? Well I met her during during our the mission to Babel, with all the delegates. Spock you know this, you were there, on the Enterprise! Don’t you remember?”

“I have never met you in my entire life sir. I have no idea who you are or what exactly it is you are trying to accomplish but I can say that it is quite enough and that if you have any sense of decency you will stay far away from my mother and you will leave me be. Good day.”

“Spock wait please it’s me! You’ve got to remember! Our mission, the Enterprise! There are over 200 men and women aboard counting on us to—“, the man started after him but immediately stopped as the tall man suddenly whirled around to face him again, radiating a cool anger.

“My name is not Spock. It is _Grayson_. Stay away from me.”

And with that he briskly turned heel and crossed, leaving behind a despairing young man who believed himself to be, by all accounts, James Tiberius Kirk.


	2. New Bonds

Anger followed Mr. Grayson as he rounded the corner and proceeded to open the door to his shop. He tugged forcefully on the handle, waking the bell with a shrill cry as he stormed inside. His assistant, Catherine, greeted him with a wide smile that was bright as anything. Until, that is, she took notice of her boss’s foul mood.

“Is everything alright sir?”, she asked.

The man gave a low grunt of acknowledgement as he proceeded to shrug off his coat and scarf, tucking them out of sight behind the counter. Mr. Grayson was not normally the sort of person who discussed his feelings or concerns with others, he generally preferred to keep to himself at all costs, something that had exasperated and worried his mother to no end as a child. So he surprised even himself when he actually decided to confess to Catherine.

“Hm, it’s probably nothing. It’s just…an encounter I had on my way here. Man was clearly mad or, well, let’s just say I was troubled by his persistence.”

Catherine’s eyes widened with obvious concern.

“Should we not notify the police sir?”

“Oh no”, Sean said shaking his head firmly, “I doubt there’s anything they could do anyway. Besides it’s probably nothing.”

Catherine pursed her lips, concern and disapproval written plainly on her face.

“Well you just be careful sir. And if I see any suspicious or unusual persons I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you Catherine.”, he smiled appreciatively.

She smiled warmly back at him, “Oh by the way I noticed we were low on certain items, especially in parts so I sent Will off with an order. It should arrive by Thursday, more than enough time to keep us covered.”

Mr. Grayson nodded, “Excellent.”

Of course he knew he could count on Catherine. She was an incredibly capable young woman who ran the shop with great efficiency. Honestly he really needn’t have bothered worrying earlier, it was just that he was just a very hands on type of personality. It was in fact, something they very much had in common which was perhaps why the shop was still in business despite every obstacle the times threw their way.

The next few hours dragged on. The mornings were always slow in the shop, their customers usually coming around the evenings or midday. So, usually those first few hours were dedicated to cleaning, re-stocking and counting the register. It was by the time noon rolled around Sean had quite forgotten the strange young man from that morning. And so it was as he closed up shop and said his goodbyes to Catherine he did not give the matter a single thought.

That is until he heard the footsteps behind him while making his way home and he suddenly became aware of how desolate and dark this particular alleyway was. Mr. Grayson was a tall man but he was also very lean to the point it was doubtful he could win in any sort of confrontation. His heart sank and proceeded to pick up the pace before another figure casually walked out from the shadows to block his path.

“Hey man, spare some change?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my wallet on me.” An obvious lie.

“Oh come on not even enough for a pack?”

“No, please I just want to get home.”

“I like your coat.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“I like your coat. Can I have it?” The man leaned in so close he could smell the foul stench of alcohol and rotting teeth on his breath.

Sean made a move to go around only to once again find his path to be blocked. Desperate, he swung wildly, catching a sloppy blow to the side of his assailants head. Still the man yelped, albeit more in surprise than any actual pain.

“Get em!”, he cried.

Suddenly Sean was caught up in what could accurately be described as the most inelegant of skirmishes, with all involved apparently knowing very little on how to actually fight but making up for what was lacking in knowledge and skill with plentiful of enthusiasm, Sean for the sake of his survival and his aggressor apparently from years of pent up aggression now unfortunately directed to poor Sean. As one swung Sean ducked and returned the favour landing a clean blow to the jaw, this time well aimed, knocking him down just before another man tacked him from behind. Colliding painfully with the hard cement pavement, Sean rolled over to view his second attacker. Standing above him, the man slowly reached into his pockets and pulled out something Sean couldn’t quite make out in the darkness but certainly fired up the imagination.

“Now, why you gotta go and make things difficult huh guy? I think maybe someone ought to teach you a thing or two about common courtesy. Manners yanno what I mean?”

However, Sean didn’t get to find out just what the man’s course on ‘manners’ entailed however as, out of nowhere the man was slugged in the face. He scrambled to his feet as the new arrival took a stand between him and his attacker.

“That’s enough!”, said the man with such an air of command Sean himself was inclined to stand to attention.

“I suggest you get on out of here unless you’re ready for a fair fight.”

“Not worth it” he muttered to his partner and sure enough both slinked off back into the darkness once more.

Sean breathed a silent sigh of relief only to gasp in surprise once he realised his aide was none other than the lunatic from that morning.

“Are you alright?”, the man asked, frowning with concern.

“Yes, I am. Thanks to you, um, Mr…?”

The man beamed at him, enthusiastically offering his hand.

“It’s Kirk, James Kirk. My friends call me Jim however.”

“Well then, Jim, I am most thankful to you. I hate to think what would have happened if you’d not intervened.”

Kirk shrugged, “Just in the right place in the right time. Anyone would have done the same.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he paused, musing over his next course of action before asking; “You know, I believe there’s a coffee shop a block away from here. It’s not much but…” he trailed off.

Kirk smiled warmly and nodded.

“I’d love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I said Sunday and Sunday it is. Boom. 
> 
> Now you suckers who betted on 'no' have to pay up.
> 
> Oh also new title because the old one was actually a placeholder. Maybe I will like it and it will actually stick this time.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah there's your intro. Please feel free to be grammar nazis cause I have no one editing this junk and my grammar is sh*t! (what is , used for anyway? hur durrr...) 
> 
> Will try to update once a week cause work. Oh and finish. I will try to finish this. No promises you never know when a piano or something might decide to fall on you. What? It could happen.


End file.
